My Skin is Crawling
by NikaStarlight
Summary: All my friends and family keep suggesting that I go see a therapist...I just scoff at the idea as if it's a bug...I mean, I'll get better...Right? Rated T for emotional and physical damage.
1. Poisoned Dreams

My Skin is Crawling

Chapter 1: Poisoned Dreams

_What's going on? Why is everything so dark? I feel numb. Am I floating? Is this real? I can't hear a thing. My fingers are tingling. It hurts. I'm deaf. I'm in pain. I'm mute. Can no one hear my cries? I can't hear myself. I'm lost. I'm abandoned. Help me...Help Me...__**HELP ME!!**_

"AHH!!" I shriek loudly as I quickly sit up erect. I frantically search from side to side, up and down all while feeling the blankets and mattress beneath me. They are warm from my body's heat. Although it's the middle of the night, the rays of light beaming from the full blown moon outside the window flood the room. I recognize this room. It's my room. I'm in my room? Right, of course, where else would I be in the middle of the night? My heart's beating so rapidly that I can see my shirt rippling with every spastic beat exerted from the precious organ. Not only that, but I'm also drenched in a deep cold sweat, and I'm breathing short, quick and painfully. No more sleep tonight. This is the regular procedure. The usual.

This isn't even the first time I had this strange dream. It isn't event that scary, yet I scream like I'm in agony every time. Maybe it has a meaning. It must be underlining because it is clearly not presenting itself directly to me. Maybe the dark void represents isolation and the pain represents suffering or emotional turmoil. Or maybe I'm over looking this this way to much. It could easily just be a simple nightmare....That I dream every night at this time. This is occurs so often that my parents don't even respond to my late night screams of terror anymore.

My nights usually go something like this. 1) Go to bed. 2) Sleep peacefully for about 2-4 hours. 3) Dream that sick, twisted dream. 4) Shriek and wake up as fast as possible. 5) Ponder over anything until it's time to get ready for school.

All my friends and family keep suggesting that I go see a therapist or doctor or anything, but I just scoff and reject the idea as if it's a bug, and with that, I simply continue on with the rest of my day. I mean, I'll get better...Right?

_Author's note: Hey everyone! I'm sorry for those of you who really wanted me to continue on with Lingering Fingertips, but I just didn't have the heart or effort for that particular fanfic anymore :(_

_But I'm back and ready to right a new!_

_This is going to be more of an angst/hurt/comfort with Stan as the main character :)_

_Hope you all enjoy!! ^__^_

_Review !!Review!! It'll definitely help me update faster! Also if you want to drop any suggestions for the upcoming chapters, please feel free to do so. They'll help me out with the progression of the fic too :D THANKS AND I LOVE YOU ALL!! 3_


	2. Raccoon Eyes

**My Skin is Crawling**

**Chapter 2: Raccoon Eyes**

Poetry is a great way to express bound up feelings. So is music. They are the words and beat of a soul. They can be depressing. They can be cheery. They can be mutual. They can be senseless. It all depends on the mood. It always does.

My poems and my lyrics seem pretty melancholy. They seem like something a scared and confused emo kid would write. I'm not emo, I just need help. That's all. My nightly routine has been betting so dull and boring lately. I mean, what else is there to think about after you've thought every thought that man has ever conjured up in the complex skill that separates us from the dogs. My head hurts from all the thoughts that have slipped through my brain. That made me wonder about what else I can do in my spare night hours. So I went online to and managed to find out that writing poetry and music helps one to relax, present decaying emotions, cleanse one of guilt or regret and just to pass the extra time.

I've been writing poetry every night for the past month, and I'm just going to put out there that it actually is helping. Even just a little bit. You see, from the constantly restless nights and horrid migraines, I wasn't exactly what you would call a "chipper" person. Writing doesn't require such in depth thought as it does feeling and true emotions. So when I wake up at midnight, I simply place the pen between my fingers and spill my heart and soul onto the sheets of paper. No thoughts, just emotions. Thinking is way over-rated for a growing, hormonal, teenage boy anyway.

"Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!" Uh, stupid alarm. Turn off! Turn off! Basically crawling off my bed and rolling over to the alarm, I finally manage to switch off the obnoxious noise. Blargh! I hate Mondays. Either everyone's drowsy and severely hung-over, or way too excited and squealing about how great their weekend was. God damn high school. I guess I have to go though. I mean it IS the law. I finally get my lazy ass of the floor and stumble over to my dresser. Pulling out a clean pair of boxers, I head for the bathroom to bathe.

I love taking a shower. It feels like I'm washing all my troubles away. Plus I smell wonderful afterwards. Two benefits in one! But all great things have to come to a finish, so after properly grooming myself, I get dressed, eat breakfast and then head out to the bus stop to meet up with the guys. They finally stopped commenting on the bags underneath my eyes. I guess it's just a part of my natural appearance now, like Kyle's Jew-fro, Kenny's poor clothing, and Cartman's weight. Cartman, Craig and a few others came up with a new nickname for me though. "Coon." It's "Coon" as in raccoon. Not "The Coon.""The Coon" is Cartman's idea of a great superhero name. The thing is that it isn't great, super or heroic. Whatever. I don't really object to it since I do look somewhat like a raccoon with the dark circles around my eyes from the lack of slumber.

"Hey," I greet as I take my usual slot in the gang of my closest friends.

"Hi," Kyle and Kenny return drowsily, but happily at the same time.

"Eh," Cartman says, at least acknowledging my very existence.

"God Cartman, at least say a real word in the English language to reply back with, lazy ass, " Kyle snapped.

"Up yours Jew," the fat lard snickers back while flipping the redhead the bird.

It's on, but it's nothing special. It's always on. They always fight. While the two bicker and banter back and forth, I take up a conversation with my blond, perverted, long-time hidden friend. He starts off by saying, "Do you still write poetry every night?"

"Ya, so? It helps." I defend.

"Whoa, whoa! Calm yourself, did I say I was disapproving?"

"Well...no." A small smile appears on his face and he chuckles a bit. It's wonderful how chill Kenny is. It's also nice that you can talk to him about anything and he won't ever think any less of you. I'm lucky to have him as such a close friend.

I open my mouth to continue with our small talk, but it is sealed shut when I suddenly feel big, strong arms wrap around my waist. Turning my head to the side enough, I'm able to see Kyle smiling warmly back at me. We are **NOT** a couple. We're just friends with benefits. He kisses the top of my head, and my heart stutters a bit. Okay, we're just friends with _great _benefits. "So I'll be staying over your house for the night," the Jew whispers seductively into my ear while tightening his grip around my person. Alright, alright! So we're gay lovers with **really** _great_ benefits!

We know we like each other. Everyone with eyes knows we like each other. We just don't want to make ourselves an official 'couple.' Yes we've been in other relationships before. Wendy and me. Bebe and Kyle. Many, many others as well as those. I don't like being called "taken" or "dating." Plus the whole thought of being in a full-on relationship makes me feel trapped. Caged. A prisoner. Kyle understands me. I understand him. We click. He knows me inside and out, and the last thing he wants is to make me upset or uneasy. That's why we're just risky lovers and not boyfriends. No strings attached. No pressure.

I snuggle into his body and place my limbs on his. Matching him arm to arm, hand to hand, legs to legs, and back to chest. I feels so safe with him around me. It's like nothing can hurt me as long as I'm in his arms. I start to sink with drowsiness and Kyle holds me tighter to keep me from plundering to the cold, hard ground. I close my eyes for a few minutes, but they crack open once more when I feel his chest vibrating, and his voice sweet voice courses through the air. All this was rudely disturbed as the bus came to a stop in front of us.

"GET IIIINNN!!" The old hag, Ms. Crabtree, shrieked.

"Ya sure, whatever you warty scarecrow." I tell her straight to her face.

"What did YOU SAY!?!?!" She erupted again.

"I said 'I wonder why worms glow.' I reply back as we all boarded and took our usual seats on the bus. I sat down next to Kyle and he wrapped his arms lovingly around my shoulders. Finally after comfortably situating myself, I take the advantage of the near 30 minute drive to school to nap.

Once we reached the campus, Ms. Crabtree screeched again and we all got off the mustard-yellow vehicle and headed for the front double doors that will lead us to our lockers, classes and doom for the day. Before we all go inside as a group we always talk out on the front steps for a few minutes. As we talk, I hear a noise and look over to the direction from which it came from in hopes to target the supplier of the minor disturbance. Doesn't everyone do that? When they hear a noise, they look to see where it came from just to settle their curiosity. Anyway, I pause.

It's a raccoon. What's a raccoon doing here? Neither one of us moves. We merely just stare back at each other. We wait for someone to make the move. It looks angry. Evil. It leans downward into a position that says it will pounce on me if I pose as a threat. Sheathing the sharp teeth it inherited, foam dribbles out from between the fangs. I look into the devious eyes one more time before it leaps at me. Screaming out of pure fear, I turn and run straight passed my friends and through the double doors into the school. However, I don't run far because my counselor stands right before me and I run directly into his backside at full force, knocking us both to the ground with a loud bang. He gets up and helps me up as well.

He seems pretty pissed off at first, but his features soften when he notices the fear in my wild eyes. Without saying a word, Marcel, my counselor, walks out the double doors, down the stairs and heads for the circle ramada that contains a pole and flag of our nation. Looking around, he attempts to find the source of what freaked me out sky-high. My curiosity peaks again and I walk out the doors too, but I stand at the top of the stairs in case I need to make a quick escape. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I walk up to Kyle and ask, "Where'd the raccoon go?" A small crease appears between his eyes and a little frown tugs at his lips. "What are you talking about? There's no raccoon around here. Raccoons don't even live anywhere near Park County. You know that... Are you okay?" I just slowly back away to the doors again and calmly walk inside. I head over to the right side of the hall and sit against the wall. A few minutes later the door opens and I look up to see Kyle and Marcel walking toward me.

They bend down to my level and Kyle cuddles me while Marcel takes hold of my shoulder. He says to meet him in his office sometime today. I agree to do so and he walks off. Kyle pulls me close and runs his fingers through my think hair. A soothing sensation that always calms my jitters.

Why was the raccoon there? Was there even a raccoon at all? Who knows. All I know is that this isn't exactly the best way to start the week, but hey, at least there's a start at all. There's always has to be a start somewhere, but does that mean there's always an end to go with it? What is an end? Questions fill my mind and I start to get a migraine again from all the thinking. I'll just have to write these down and think about them tonight...

-:-:-

_Hey everyone! Thanks for reading! I'm so happy that you guys enjoy my writing! _

_But there IS something that I have to tell you all. I will NOT continue to write if I do not get any reviews. I need at least 2-3 reviews to keep my heart and imagination into my stories. I know it's a bit extreme, but encouragement is needed to progress right?_

_If you want more chapters, review._

_If you fave my stories, review._

_So new rule....__**No Review, No Update.**_

_Thank you._

_~Ronnie_


	3. Itchy

**My Skin is Crawling**

**Chapter 3: Itchy**

School was a bore. Assignments here, a test there, and notes, notes, notes. Ridiculous. I dropped by Marcel's office today for lunch and 6th hour. Mr. Mackey was there too, but he left soon after the session started since he has other kids to counsel now. Marcel's a young guy and pretty new to the job, but he's as good as any professional. I can tell him a lot that's on my mind and my problems. He never makes our sessions awkward. We talked for a good 2 1/2 hours and I went through the rest of the day with barely a flicker of interest. It's school. What is there to do at school? Nothing fun, that's for sure.

It was great that Kyle never left my side, but it did get somewhat annoying since he kept asking if I was alright every time my mind drifted off for a moment. He's a great guy to care so much, and I know I'm lucky to have him, but the persistency of caring too much for me at times gets irritating after a while.

School eventually ended and Kyle and I went back to my house. After the usual video games, junk food and wrestling, we resorted to laying on my bed and snuggling while watching some random movie we rented. The sun finally went to sleep and the moon has just woken up for his shift. Day has ended and night has begun. A new world has begun. Kyle said he was exhausted from school work and all that, so he retired to sleep right after the movie ended. I, on the other hand, haven't even bothered to try to sleep yet. There were just too many questions that needed to be answered!

_There always has to be a start, but does that mean there's always an end to that start? What is an end? Wouldn't it just be a new beginning? A new chapter in life? Or a new story all together?_

These are the questions that plague me tonight. I peer out my window, my portal to the world, and ask the moon for the answers. I know it sounds weird but the moon always talks to me, but not tonight. No, tonight he's playing hide-and-seek and has cleverly hidden himself amongst the blankets of down-feather clouds. They seem to darken every minute. Becoming more threatening of a midnight shower every second. A blinding light strikes the abyss of sky, and it fills my room only for a split second. An explosion is soon coursing through the air and in my ears, signaling the start of the war in the heavens this evening.

I carefully remove Kyle's arms from my waist and slowly arise from my mattress, as to not wake him up, and quietly grab my camera off my desk as I open my window. I recently discovered the skill of capturing lighting on camera, as well as other difficult photos to capture, in my possession. I've actually taken so many extravagant shots that my pictures have made it into several galleries, magazines, competitions. I actually make a pretty good amount of money from selling them too.

As I sit on my windowsill, my mind shifts into a completely different state. I zone out. Focusing all my attention to the voice in my head rather than the environment around me is the trick to my photography. Pitch black. I sense a familiar churning in the pit of my stomach. A good feeling. I embrace it and lift the little machine in my hands. Wait for it. Be patient. Focus only on the voice. It's quiet. Barely audible, but I can still make out the soft command.

_Now._

Click.

The flash disappears and light now expels from the screen on my camera. Glancing down, I see the expertly taken photo of the whip-like fulmination. I silently thank the keeper of my mind for the precise timing. I always do, but no one really has to know that. I'm not crazy, but they would think I am. My gaze leaves the sky and travels to the street by instinct.

I'm frozen. Paralyzed. I can't breath. Those claws. Those teeth. Those _eyes_. The raccoon. It's back. We stare. I don't dare look away. I don't even blink once. A clatter shatters the swiftly developing tension between us and it runs off in a flash. My pupils dash over to the disturbance. Garbage. It floods the alley now that several cans have been raped of the filth that had once inhabited them. A monster. A stranger. A creep.

I sense a familiar churning in the pit of my stomach...A bad feeling. The same feeling that wakes me up every night. That same feeling you get when you know you're in danger. That same feeling-W-Where did it go? The creep. It was just there. It was right there. I didn't blink. My eyes still burn with envy for the moisture of their lids. But the monster. The stranger. It just vanished...That feeling won't leave.

As I hop off the sill, I leave one hand on the frame for balance as the other places my camera on my desk once more. I must stay quiet. My breathing is ragged. It's too loud, so I release the rest of the oxygen from my organs so there is no more air in my lungs. Pain! Burning! I try to yelp as I clutch my injured hand but with the lack of breath, I merely choke on the attempt. I frantically look to my window.

The creep. The stranger. It's sitting in my window. It's hideous and haggard. Bald and burnt. Crusted-over skin with black, sticky blood residing in patches all over its face. Broken nose and a missing eye. A bitten-off ear, and claw marks coating its sunken cheeks. It looks like a man, but no man should ever look like this. It's a horrific sight. It smiles. A gruesome smile. Barely any teeth left at all. Rotten down to the gums, while the others that are remaining are black-brown and broken. What a revolting creature. It waves to me and I can see my blood trickling down the fellow's filthy fingers. The nails sharpened to points like knives. Lightning and it's gone.

Without thinking, I return to the window and search for the monster. It was just a sudden impulse that I had to commit to. No such luck. I turn my attention to my injured limb. There on the backside of my left hand are 3 slashes. They're torn in a mangled fashion. That only makes sense since the creep used it's claws to rip me up. The blood keeps running. It looks so enticing. My actions are quicker than my thoughts, for the next thing I know, my hand is at my lips and copper is drizzled along my tongue. A loathsome delicacy.

I feel bugs on me. I feel their little legs tickling the tiny hairs which coat my arms. Swiping the critters off me I notice...Nothing's there. No, they're on me again. On me and crawling up my legs and arms. I swipe them again. It's like they're attached to me. No. I'm wrong again. They're _inside_ me. Running along my veins and bones. Tempting me. Testing me. Teasing me.

Frenziedly I start to scratch, rip and tear at the once milky flesh on my arms. I'm almost there. Almost have them. So damn close! There's too much blood now that I can't see them! Kyle! He'll help me! Kyle! **Kyle!**

"KYLE!"

He sits upright on the mattress in a second looking distraught. I fall to my knees. My arms hurt. They burn and the bugs won't leave! Kyle rushes to my side so quickly that I didn't realize he was there until he embraced me in his strong arms. Or maybe that's because I couldn't think past the irritation flooding my senses.

"Stan! What's wrong? What the...-What did you do to your arms?"

"K-Kyle...I'm...I-I'm so...Itchy..."

Lighting and thunder collide together and soon I am left with darkness, burning arms, bloody fingers, ringing ears and a craving itch for more.

_-:-:-_

_Howdy folks!_

_I'm back and up with a new chapter! XD_

_I hope you all enjoyed this one. It was kinda difficult to write, but I'm pretty satisfied by the way it turned out. By the way, whenever there is a separate paragraph completely in italics, that's what Stan is thinking. When there are italics in a normal font paragraph, it serves as an emphasis. That's just to clear up any sort of confusion there ^_^_

_South Park (c) Matt Stone 'n Trey Parker_

_Review Review Reveiw!_

_Keeps me motivated._

_~Ronnie_


	4. Light my Darkness

My Skin is Crawling

**Chapter 4: Light my Darkness**

I can't hear anything. Everyone is screaming all at once, but the sound drifts past my eardrums like a current swiftly passes a rock. I don't need to hear to know that everyone is freaking out. That's why God gave me eyes. That's why I can see my frantic family but can't hear a whisper. God wants me to see the mess I made. He wants to punish me for acting irrationally, though I truly believe that I acted upon instinct. No one wants bugs crawling all over them. They're gross.

I think this is what you call "suspended animation." I can see, yes, but can not hear, can not move. I can only see. See, and feel? Yes, I can feel the regret in my core. I can feel the agonizing burning running up my arms. I can feel the warmth of Kyle's hands upon my person. One of them, gripping the mangled flesh that is my right hand. The other, softly caressing my face; gently pushing my hair back and out of my eyes. He's talking to me. I can see his lips dancing wildly before me. I assume he's asking me what happened, or if I'm okay, but I don't know that for sure. I can only see and feel, not hear, Kyle.

Mom is crying, Dad is barking at the phone, Shelly is standing in a corner of my room, starting horrifically at the scene unfolding before her. I look to Kyle again only to realize that my vision is dimming. The redhead's eyes grow wide and I see him mouth one more thing before my world turned abysmal. Before God decided I had seen enough. I saw him mouth my name. I saw him attempt to reach me in my paralyzed state one more time, but it was only a waste of breath from his lips on my poor deaf ears.

-.-.-

I am surely dead. Not long after I was engulfed in darkness, the pain disintegrated into numbness. Is this what it feels like to be high? I always wondered, but I'll never know because I am dead. I'm alone, abandoned in the strange dark place. No one and nothing in sight to hold onto. I'm floating. I'm freefalling. I'm lost. I'm alone.

This seems familiar though. My subconscious is screaming. Why? Because I know this place, that's why. I know it because I've been here every night. I know this place from my terrors. Who would have thought that death trapped you in your own mind. In your own nightmare. Now I really do try to scream, but no one hears me. I can't even hear myself. I'm deaf, still, even in death. I am blind. And now, I can not even feel anything but fear wrapping its tentacles around my body and choking me. I want out. I want to go home. I want Kyle to hold me. I want to kiss him and let him know that I want to be his official boyfriend. My wants are denied and ignored. I scream again and try to move. Nothing happens. I don't even know if I'm crying. I can't feel the wet streams leaking from my sockets, nor can I see anything to blur my impaired vision except the blackness surrounding me.

All I know is that being dead isn't all it's cracked up to be.

-.-.-

Kyle's POV:

He's scared. I know his is because he's twitching again. He always twitches when he's scared, whether he be asleep like now, or up-and-about at school. At least it's some kind of reaction though. I grip his cold, lip hand and gently rub it with my thumb. Back and forth, back and forth. 6 hours of Stan just laying there in this hospital bed. 6 hours of hearing his soft breathing, and the beeping of the machines that are connected to various parts of his body, the beeping that's keeping my Stan alive. 6 hours of just watching and waiting for any sign of life to occur so that I can calm down a bit knowing that he's going to be okay in the end.

Stan keeps whimpering and squirming. I makes me even more concerned when he's like this than if he's still and calm. Sometimes he fists his hands weakly and cringes. These are signs of life. It proves that he's coming back, that he's almost out of the purgatory he's trapped in. I should be ecstatic, but I can't help but hold his weak hand with a deep frown. I can't help but run my fingers gingerly through his luscious locks of ebony hair with my eyes set like stone. I can't help but pacify his uneasiness by gently hushing him with my body frozen over like petrified wood.

I want Stan, my baby, my love, to wake up! Then again, I don't want him to be showing these messages of waking up by having him be frightened and upset where ever his head put him. I'm quite indecisive to get to the point.

My constant caressing and soothing words may set back whenever he's supposed to wake up, but I can wait. I've gone 6 hours already, I can manage to go 6 or more. I can wait so long as my Stan is at peace in his poor, disturbed little mind.

-.-.-

Stan's POV:

There's a light. I try my best to float to it, but every time I get close, it moves just out of my reach. It's this game we play with each other, you see? I go forward, it goes back. This has been going on for only God knows how long, but at least I'm not all alone anymore. I have this little orb of light to keep me company.

I don't think it likes me though. I've gotten really close to it a few times, and when I try to catch it and win this little game, it burns my hands and arms. Then it floats very far away. I just wait till it comes back, and then we start to play again. I don't like that it hurts me, but it's not like there is anything else to do here. I don't even remember when, or how, this light got here in the first place. All I know is that I could only see and feel again when it showed up.

I'm gaining on it. I'm getting so close, but I dare not touch the ball of light. It burns and I do not like the sensation, you see? It doesn't move. I can easily grab it and hold the orb close, but it does not float away from me this time. No, this time it floats toward me. Forcing itself upon me. But this little orb of light burns me, and I do not like burning, you see, so I quickly float back to the safety the darkness offers me.

This is strange. I'm the one that's supposed to chase, not be chased. This light has turned the tables on me. I feel betrayed. I float back further, but it only continues to follow me. I hit something hard and I can't move back anymore. The light calmly advances forward. I put my hands up to shield my eyes from its powerful light. I guess this ball has other plans though as it actually grows bigger and brighter. Almost instantly the orb plunges itself directly into my shielding hands.

It burns so badly. I try to throw it away, but it sticks to me like glue. We've been molded together. Fused.

I was in pain, and darkness gave me refuge. It gave me a blanket to mask the pain. I was fearful, and the darkness gave me a light. It gave me a light that, in turn, gave me a comforting presence, a friend in my solitude. I was betrayed, and this light gave me pain. It gave me this agonizing ache which made me want to live again, and be away from this death and light. I was in strain, and this death gave me hearing. It gave me ear to let me detect the voice of the painful orb. Hearing this voice, this familiar murmur, gave me strength, and I crushed the light in my hands. I was proud, and this abyss gave me sight. It gave me this gift, and with it, I opened my eyes to find Kyle, my Kyle, hovering over me. With my hearing, sight and strength restored, I managed to find my voice and the muscles to work it. But as I was bestowed these wonderful gifts that I had longed for in the dark, I was also given the pain from which I once escaped with a mask given to me from my darkness, my nightmare.

-.-.-

_Hey everyone! I'm SOOOO Sorry it took so flipping long to update this fic. ^^;_

_I had it ready and written…I just couldn't get on the computer and type it up with finals and all._

_Here, you can see Stan slowly starting to, well…lose his mind. After he passes out, he gets trapped in his mind and he has to overcome it to get back to his Kyle and reality as we know it! I hope you can tell he's getting the "crazies" since he keeps repeating everything :P_

_I popped what's going on with Kyle in there, and I may do that every now-and-then. Who knows?_

_So here you go! I hoped you enjoyed…..and I seriously need more reviews. It's getting really difficult to keeping writing when no one is actually reading this and telling me they like it :(_

_I may start another fic real soon (This one will be for Danny Phantom!)_

_South Park © Matt Stone 'n Trey Parker_


	5. ATTENTION !

The administrators of are as of June 4th going to be taking down Fics that have lemons or have extreme violence. Now I don't know about you but I think thats stupid. There are many wonderful fics that only have one or two lemons in them yet the plot itself is awesome! You can't just take down a 100,000+ word fic just because it has a lemon in a chapter that is only 1000 words long. Now I urge you all to read the petition below, sign it, and repost this to your own fics. Hopefully if we make enough noise everything will return to normal. Thank you.

Greetings to the fine folk that moderate our site.

Myself, along with many, have been writing and posting on your fine site for years now, some of the better examples of up and coming writers out there are now suddenly finding some of the stories we've come to love at risk of being removed without the chance to even rectify our errors.

For some, that means the permanent loss of a story. While I don't have anything that I believe violates your terms of use, there are those out there that are never able to recover a story in its original form, this is something I find to be almost worthy of a legal action, as while we cannot claim ownership of a character, the stories are OURS and simply destroying them is something that is inexcusable.

It's quite easy to simply add an MA rating, additional filters or even a simple requirement for a free membership to read the stories presented here, and would cut down on hateful anonymous reviews and posts at the same time, so I have to question as to why such a thing, in all this time, simply wasn't added.

If you're worried about falsification of a registration then have an appropriate disclaimer and then there can be no dispute, you took your steps and the PARENTS didn't monitor their children, if that is even your concern. If it is more of a personal view or desire then please at least let people know and give them a chance to remove a story that you and yours find offensive, most people on the site are actually rather cordial when it comes to such requests.

While I cannot say for sure if this letter will even reach those that may be willing to listen, of if it's more akin to a wide spectrum purge in preparation for something bigger, please understand that you are going to be looseing a LARGE number of your writers, and thus your income from a lack of readers if there is not some level of action taken to help with this situation.

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917brat

Evil Long Penname Having Individual End

Biisaiyowaq

NikaStarlight


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